The Charge

"Just how dangerous is an open heart?"—Carrie Bradshaw, from
"The Domino Effect"

Opening Statement

HBO's hugely popular Sunday night staple, Sex and the City, recently
took its final bow after six seasons. When originally broadcast, the final
season was broken up into two parts—the first twelve episodes airing in
the summer of 2003, and the final eight episodes popping up several months
later. Unfortunately, HBO has also decided to release the final season on DVD
the same way, breaking it up into Season Six, Part One and what we can
only assume is the forthcoming Season Six, Part Two. Why the division,
you may ask? Simple—why charge an exorbitantly high price for one
comprehensive set when you can charge an exorbitantly high price twice
for two truncated ones?

Facts of the Case

As Season Six opens, Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker, Ed Wood) is just beginning her relationship with
Jack Berger (Ron Livingston, Office
Space), the writer with whom she left off with at the end of season five.
Charlotte (Kristin Davis, Sour Grapes) is still seeing her former divorce
attorney, Harry Goldenblatt (Evan Handler, Natural Born Killers), but religious
differences are proving to be an obstacle if the two intend to get serious.
Miranda (Cynthia Nixon, Amadeus) is
finally coming to the realization that she is, in fact, in love with Steve
(David Eigenberg, The Mothman
Prophecies), the father of her baby. Samantha (Kim Cattrall, Big Trouble in Little China) is
conducting business as usual—sleeping with most of the men she comes in
contact with—until she meets Jerry (Jason Lewis, Next Stop
Wonderland), a waiter-turned-actor that might finally be her match.

For the most part, the twelve episodes presented here work to develop each
of these story lines. As opposed to past seasons, where the focus was more of a
"guy of the week" nature, Season Six basically follows one or two
relationships for each of the girls. Carrie and Berger soon run into romantic
speed bumps, when Berger's insecurities begin to surface—many stemming
from the fact that both he and Carrie are writers, and one of them (I won't tell
you who) is more successful. Charlotte begins to consider converting to Judaism
in order to make things potentially permanent between her and Harry, but even
that proves to be not quite enough—it's more than just a faith that stands
between them. Samantha turns boy toy Jerry into a star (re-dubbing him the more
Hollywood-friendly "Smith Jerrod"), all the while struggling with her
newfound affinity for that dreaded word: commitment. Miranda, discouraged by the
presence of a new woman in Steve's life, distracts herself by hooking up with an
attractive new tenant in her building (Blair Underwood, Full Frontal).

Because the season was designed as one entire arc and the split between Part
One and Part Two is pretty arbitrary (though not necessarily abrupt), there is
no cliffhanger-style ending at the end of the set. It should lead effortlessly
into the final half of the season.

The Evidence

For better or worse, Season Six finally has the Sex and the City gals
growing up. Without spoiling too much for the folks who don't know how the whole
thing played out, I will say that every man that the girls ultimately end up
with is present here in Season Six, Part One (I just won't say who). The
connections between the characters and their plot lines begin towards their
logical conclusions, but without the feeling that everything is being tied up
too neatly. The show is finally able to move beyond just character
development—which it had become quite good at—and begin to explore
relationship development. Other than Carrie, the series had never really
examined how its characters interacted in actual adult relationships; we
usually just got to see them on dates.

The above quote, taken from the episode "The Domino Effect,"
pretty well sums up where the girls are at in Season Six. Their hearts are
finally open, leaving them truly vulnerable and exposed—for some of them,
it's the first time. Charlotte must finally abandon her dreams of surface-level
perfection in a mate, resigning herself to being sick in love with the last guy
anyone who watches this show would expect (kudos to the show, too, for finally
shattering their "cute guy" stigma and making Evan Handler's Harry the
most appealing male cast member the series has seen). For all of Samantha's
readiness when it comes to sex, she finds her greatest challenges in dealing
with the little things—holding her boyfriend's hand, for one. I recognize
it's an obvious and rather clumsy character conflict, but it's handled with
delicacy and sweetness. Miranda, the most notoriously closed-off of the bunch,
is shocked to find that opening her heart to Steve isn't quite enough—just
because she finally decides she loves him does not mean that the rest will
automatically fall into place (though the show does undercut this rather
poignant dilemma somewhat with its resolution).

Then there's Carrie. It is she who poses the "open heart"
question, and it is she who feels the ramifications of an open heart most of
all. Though she's experienced heartbreak in the past, it was typically as a
result of her own misgivings. Season Six, on the other hand, gives us a Carrie
that wants and tries to make love work. She opens herself up to
suitors, both new and old, and finally gives up relying on quirkiness and game
playing to create something lasting. As always, she's the glue that holds the
series together; for all of her witty repartee and romantic ruminations, it is
Carrie's flaws that make her so endearing. As much as I like Sarah Jessica
Parker's performance, however, I think I'll always be partial to Kristin Davis'
Charlotte—mostly because she's so damn cute (and reminds me a great deal
of the wife-to-be). This, of course, says more about me than it does about the
show.

I will say this: I must take objection to the show's treatment of Jack
Berger. In my universe of admittedly wishful thinking, Berger was the closest
thing to me that ever stumbled through show's New York sets. He's fast and
funny, unkempt and scruffy in a good-looks-be-damned way (and if you haven't
guessed, I'm no longer comparing him to me). It may be a result of all of these
qualities—or it may be because he's a writer, too—that he and Carrie
have better chemistry than most of the other romantic counterparts the show has
delivered; watching the two trade their '40s-style back-and-forth is to want
these two kids to make it work. He is, sadly, too easily dismissed and made too
big a fool of. It's my own fault—I grew too attached to him. Shame on
me.

Despite much popular opinion to the contrary, I've always felt that Sex
and the City is pretty universal. Sure, it's probably too preoccupied with
sex, but what romantic relationship isn't in one way or another? That is, after
all, what the show is about—once you get past the clothes, the clubs, and
the crassness, it's about how people relate to one another as friends, lovers,
and family. While the characters' outlines may be somewhat broadly drawn (at the
surface level, each woman is a "type"), the actors and writers have
fleshed each one out enough so that she or he is a fully realized
individual—no one can be pinned down to a stereotype. The writing is
first-class, too. Despite several puns and wordplays guaranteed to induce eye
rolling, it actually is (was) one of the most literate shows on
television—it's in love with language, and not just the blue kind. I would
also argue that each individual show, which begins with a general theme and sees
it through to the end (usually without being too direct about it), is as
tightly constructed as an episode of Seinfeld—but not as funny.

HBO's set of Sex and the City—Season Six, Part One is on par
with their releases of previous seasons—it's a good collection, with a
reasonable amount of extras. The twelve episodes are spread out evenly across
three discs, presented in their original 4:3 full frame aspect ratio. The image
is bright and colors are strong—Carrie's garishly colored outfits are
properly garish. The 5.1 audio track is decent, but actually kind of
unnecessary—the show revolves around people talking to one another, so the
benefits of a 5.1 track are underutilized.

Four episodes ("To Market, To Market," "Great
Sexpectations," "Boy, Interrupted" and "One") are
presented with optional audio commentary by the show's executive producer and
sometimes writer/director Michael Patrick King. The talks he delivers are
informative; he discusses how the knowledge that this would be the show's last
season freed the writers up to explore the characters more deeply and gradually
steer them towards their final destinations. He also gives a great deal of
insight into the characters' motivations and the intentions of each episode, as
well as a reasonable amount of background information. The only other supplement
of note is a full-length taping of the cast and King (as in Michael
Patrick… not a ruler) speaking at a Museum of TV and Radio seminar. It's a
moderated panel discussion, mostly consisting of the cast discussing their
involvement with the series and what they feel its strengths are. It is
fascinating, though, to see just how seriously Kim Cattrall—for my money,
the weakest member of the ensemble—takes herself. Wasn't she in
Mannequin?

The Rebuttal Witnesses

As much as I enjoy Sex and the City—and all of HBO's original
programming, for that matter—I cannot forgive them for their astronomical
prices. It may just be that the studio knows that the caliber of their original
series is so high and fans will want to get their hands on it so badly that they
can charge just about anything. And we do—close to $100 for thirteen
episodes of The Sopranos, or upwards of $50 for eight (count them
eight) episodes of Oz. Because of the way the seasons have been
staggered, Sex and the City is the worst offender in the bunch. Having
recently released the criminally brief eight-episode-long Season Five at a price
equivalent to previous full-length seasons (close to fifty bucks), HBO is now
asking full price for another half season with Season Six, Part One.
Chances are good that Season Six, Part Two will soon follow, most likely
at an equally steep price—we are essentially paying twice for what should
be one item (we'll call it the Kill Bill school of business).

Closing Statement

Sex and the City—Season Six, Part One proves to be an
accomplished (half of a) swan song for the series. The show ditches some of its
trademark formula and repetition and finally takes a serious look at itself,
culminating in what is probably the best season in the show's six-year run.

The Verdict

The Court finds HBO guilty of price gouging, but the gals of Sex and the
City are free to both Dolce and Gabbana to their hearts' content. Case
dismissed.